


Liminal Space

by LeftHand



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Demon Hanzo, M/M, shipwatch week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 00:09:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11520414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeftHand/pseuds/LeftHand
Summary: The sky above churns like ocean waves and the air around him is heavy.Still the blossoms fall.Still the demon looks on.Jesse made a deal long ago but he's yet to figure the price he's signed to pay.





	Liminal Space

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of Day 1 of [Shipwatch Week](https://ship-watch.tumblr.com/post/163054269603/ship-watch-ship-watch-hello-loves-after)  
> The Discord server Shipwatch is incredible and we're always up for taking new members. Feel free to shoot me an [ask](http://mccrees-left-arm.tumblr.com/) if you'd like an invite.

It felt like intense vertigo. Words left his tongue and the last thing he knew before darkness encased his vision was that though the rest of his body was trembling, the finger on the trigger was sure as stone. 

The heat of the New Mexican sun had burned the back of his neck where the guys had stolen his hat for the umpteenth time, ignoring its practical uses over their jokes about his chosen aesthetic. It had been itching up a storm all day. Maybe it was a strange thing to single out amongst the bizarrity of the scenario but something about its simplicity grounded him. Or it would have, were he still able to feel it. As it was, when he jolted awake he was not in the same place he was before. 

He was laying on his back in grass that should be green but wasn’t quite. Nor were the pink blossoms that were falling around him, like floral snow from the cherry blossom above, quite as pink as they should have been. The grey sky above, filtered through the winding branches, muted the colours and dulled them to something less vibrant than the world he knew. 

His neck didn’t burn and his muscles no longer ached. 

The first thought he had was: I’m dead. 

It seemed logical. 

McCree was young, he was wily and he  _ knew _ he was headstrong. But he sure as hell wasn’t stupid. Or prone to flights of fancy. 

No; he was dead.

He flexed his fingers in the grass and felt the blades brush against his skin. 

_ Tap, tap, tap. _

The noise drew his attention to the side of him. He noticed that past the trees towering above it seemed he was laying before several targets of some sort of old-type firing range. Several arrows stuck from the things and he swallowed deeply in fear. 

He had not been a good man. 

And though he’d never been the religious type, once faced with a literal do or die scenario he wasn’t half surprised to find himself praying to a God he’d once scoffed at. 

_ Tap, tap, tap. _

The noise continued. He risked sitting up even despite several moments paralyzed in fear. The architecture around him looked Japanese and the cherry blossoms only  affirmed his suspicions. But the air around him was stiller than the hottest summer day, except lacking the familiar stifling heat he associated with it. It was eerie, like an empty hypertrain station. And nothing sat right with his gut. 

It was only when he glanced towards the source of the noise that he saw the man sat there. Bold as daylight, garbed in white and red. His skin was ashen grey, not unlike the swirling sky above them. Like the colour of clouds threatening a storm. Black hair tied up neatly and holding an arrow between his fingers, knocking points into it with a knife. 

They met gazes for a split second, the man--no.  _ Demon’s  _ lips tilting down in distaste before McCree’s vision pooled black once again and his head hit the ground. 

Or he thought it did. 

Later he’d learn that the feeling of his skull hitting something was in fact the butt of one of Gabriel Reyes’s shotguns hitting the back of his head after he’d murdered five of Blackwatch’s men on behalf of the Deadlock gang in quicktime with five bullets. 

 

\--

 

The next time it happened it was four years later. He’d matured somewhat from the child he had been when he’d first spoken the words, but more so in the fact that he acknowledged he had a lot to learn about the world and the mysterious things in it. The strings of fate tying him to where he might be, to where he might go. The dealings he did to wrestle himself away from the grave again and again. 

He knew he knew nothing and that was all he knew. 

So when he uttered the words, felt his finger on the trigger go still, he knew this time to swallow the fear that should have followed him to the grey sky obscured by the muted pinks of cherry blossoms. 

He wasted no time sitting up this time around. His hat had fallen from his head and he reached to place it back on. 

_ Shhk, Shhk, Shhk. _   
Wooden shavings fell to the floor as the demon with black hair ran the knife along the shaft of an arrow. 

The place was unchanged, from the falling petals to the position in which the stranger was sat. Knelt atop a flattened stone, fingers deft around blade and unfinished arrow. 

Jesse opened his mouth to say something but the lingering nerves running under his skin stopped him in his tracks. The demon paid him no mind, continuing his task. 

The clouds overhead rolled in time with McCree’s unease. 

He opened his mouth again in order to ask a question, to appeal to the demon stranger as to enquire his place in the world. To what he paid every time he came here. To how he was able to kill as he did. What came out instead was: 

“Guessin’ I ain’t in Kansas no more.” 

Before darkness encompassed his vision he could have sworn the demon rolled its eyes.

 

\--

 

He started losing track for a while of the encounters he had with this demon. Always in the same place, always under the same circumstances. Never for more than a few seconds. Always after the same three words spoken. 

A part of him knew the ability took its toll on him, but with the way Blackwatch pushed him and the tasks that were set before them he couldn’t afford to show weakness. He trusted very few within the organisation, and even those he knew he disconcerted with his inane ability to kill.    
“How do you do that?” They’d ask, and he was never quite sure how to answer. Because he was never actually  _ there _ for the killing. He was only ever there to consent to it happening, level his gaze at his enemies, steady his finger on the trigger and then find himself in a foreign purgatory with no breeze and rolling clouds that sang of rain but never spilled a drop. 

Without fail the demon would be working on an arrow. Maybe the same one, maybe not. McCree never really had enough time to ask. Sometimes took longer than others. Sometimes he was permitted to stay for a couple of minutes, sometimes he’d open his eyes in the Inbetween only for them to immediately go black again. It was frustrating and confusing but just another notch in McCree’s belt when it came to experiences that he couldn’t explain.

So the second he opened his eyes he’d get a question out.

“Where is this?

“Who are you?”

“What’s happening?”

And receive naught but silence in reply. For the first few times the demon ignored him point blank, even continued fletching over paying McCree any mind at all. 

It was the fifth time he started paying closer attention to the cowboy. 

After the tenth time McCree arrived, the demon would put down his knife entirely and watch the man with barely disguised interest. Like  _ McCree _ was the one with the intricate red tattoos and white eyes, like he was the spectacle.

But the demon never spoke, no matter how many questions Jesse chattered at him, no matter how quickfire his words were. The most the demon would ever do is tilt his head in curiosity or cock a brow. Jesse wasn’t even sure the demon could understand him.

Until one day, five years after the first time he’d spoken the words.

It’d been a bad bust up, the mission had gone awry and his teammates were dead or otherwise MIA. He was surrounded by agents of a rogue organisation that Reyes had been warning Morrison about for months. They’d covered their tracks well but all the warning signs Overwatch steadfastly refused to acknowledge had finally come to light. 

McCree figured it was his time. His life had been one bathed in bloodshed and it was only fitting he went out that way. He’d shattered his arm, the thing hung lifeless at his side and he had three bullets left to far too many men. Even with his capabilities he knew it would be the end for him, he was bleeding out and the hostiles were smirking at him like he was a dog dancing on its hind legs.

For what he assumed to be the last time, he spoke the words.   
“ _ It’s High Noon. _ ”

His eyes fluttered open and made contact with the gray sky and pink petals. 

Both arms worked in this realm and everything ceased to hurt so he sat up and pushed himself over to a tree. Though in no pain he was exhausted, like all the energy in him had been sapped away. He slumped against the bark and eyed the demon working, as ever, on the unfinished arrow.

“The name’s McCree,” he said suddenly. Even as he muttered it he wondered at his intention. It was true, though he’d fired nothing but questions at the demon for the past few years (and received nothing back), the demon had never threatened him nor shown anything other than plain, begrudging curiosity.

They’d never exchanged names. Jesse had always assumed pleasantries were something reserved for polite company, such as humans and omnics that didn’t want him dead.

He sighed, “I...dunno what’s gonna happen now. Maybe if I die I’ll just stay here.” He doubted that. Even if the colours around him seemed less muted than usual, more alive. 

“Not got anythin’ to say?” He griped at the demon who lowered his gaze back to the blade in his hand. “Nah...figured as much.” At that he lowered his head into his hands. 

Fear crawled in his gut, not unlike the fear he’d felt the first time he’d found himself in this place. The fear of the unknown, the fear of what might come next.   
He spent a few minutes like that. Long enough to fear that he’d never leave. It was the longest he’d ever spent there. 

He felt the presence in front of him before he lowered his hands.

“You must leave this place. Before you forget how.” 

The demon was crouched there, a foot away from him. Staring intently with blank eyes. 

“Your grasp on the mortal realm is faltering.” The demon reached out and as McCree flinched away his outstretched hand paused, as if waiting permission. Jesse scowled but allowed the demon to touch his arm. The man was cold, like ice. But solid enough. Where their skin met it tingled like static on an outdated monitor. The demon pulled his hand away quickly and parted his lips to inhale a sharp breath. 

“I should not have been able to do that.”

Jesse closed his eyes and slumped back further, overtaken by sudden fatigue. “This ain’t any less than what I deserve. I’ve done--” He took a shuddering breath, “I’ve done a lot of bad shit.” 

The demon before him didn’t respond but McCree knew were he to open his eyes he would undoubtedly be staring at him still. 

It was then he felt fingers under his chin, tilting his head up. He opened his eyes. The demon was impossibly close to him, brow furrowed. 

“My brother made a contract with you some years ago. You have endured more than many mortals have. You will continue to do so.” 

“Your...brother?” Was McCree finally getting some answers?

The demon struggled to find the words, brow furrowing further. “I...cannot tell you more. I am bound against betraying terms of the contract.” As if to back up his words, the bared tattoo across his side and down his arm glowed faintly. 

Jesse shook his head. “I can’t remember makin’ no deal.” 

The demon huffed something similar to a laugh. “No. You would not.” 

McCree found himself at a loss for words even as his lethargy increased and the colours of the usually grey world grew brighter around him. The grey of the sky was opening up to reveal blue overhead. He could help but stare up at it--fingers at his chin tugged his gaze back to the man before him, looking less and less demon-like every second.

“You don’t have much time.”

“Am I dyin’?” 

The demon nodded as if the notion was simple. “Yes.” 

“An’ your brother, he’s...?” 

“When you are here, McCree, what do you think is happening in the mortal realm?” 

“I...I dunno.I just wake up an’ people are dead.” 

The demon blinked and nodded at him to continue, tattoo glowing like the thing physically worked to restrain him. 

“Your brother.He does that?” 

The demon sagged in relief. “As were the terms of your contract.” 

When the demon looked at him again his eyes were no longer white and his skin far less grey. McCree might have even gone so far as to call him handsome if it were not for the fact his body felt like it was shutting down.

“I can not say the words. I am bound against cajoling you. You must ask.”

McCree willed his eyes open again. The man before him looked as human as he was and the tattoo wrapped around his arm was no longer red and fearsome, but blue, twining dragons. 

“You want me to make a deal?” He laughed. As if one demon’s claws twined in his fate wasn’t enough.    
“It is that or die.” 

“Your brother....He can’t save me?” 

“You are fading quickly and he will be occupied with whatever mess you have left him to. He is not infallible. But I am not able to help unless it is asked of me.” 

Jesse frowned, suspicious even against the threat of death. “Why would you do this?” 

The man leant back as if the question had taken him off guard but he just shrugged, expression softening imperceptibly. “You are young. You are foolhardy. And you have much to learn. It has been some time since I have been so invested in a mortal’s story. Is it so much to simply wish the story to continue a little longer?” 

Something in McCree knew that the answer was only half true. Yet somehow, it was enough for him. Afterall, he didn’t have much choice.    
“Fine, do it. I want you to save me.”

The man nodded. “I, Hanzo Shimada. Offer you a binding contract, Jesse McCree. Your life bound to mine in return for its continued existence.” 

“I accept.”

Hanzo nodded and extended his hand, the dragons on his skin shifted as the blue glow amplified and pulsed. Even as McCree eyed it he took the man’s hand in his. Dragons twined past Hanzo’s fingers and onto his, as if tying them together.

“It’s time to wake up, Jesse.” 

McCree floundered in sudden panic, watching the dragons swirl together against their skin.

“I don’t know  _ how _ .” 

Hanzo’s other hand reached up to cup his cheek and pull them close, foreheads almost touching. “Yes. You do.” 

The last thing he felt before his vision went black was Hanzo’s lips against his forehead and the whispered words, “ _ Wake up _ .” 

 

\--

 

He woke up in intensive care.

“There was an explosion.” A voice to his side said. 

Lots of voices said lots of different things. 

“Blackwatch is compromised.” Another one said. 

“We’re going to fit him with a prosthetic.” A female one said. 

All words spoken at different times. Days passed by imperceptibly and McCree drifted all the same in a state of half consciousness. 

He didn’t know what he’d signed up for and the world was crumbling around him. 

But he swore to himself that he would find out. About it all. 

He would live on and he would discover what it was his life now meant. 

One way or another. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Tsol](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorQui/pseuds/DoctorQui) for betaing!


End file.
